Maid For You - A Cinderella Love Story

by Paisley Lang

  When we reach the study, Gaby knocks twice before entering and ushering me inside.

  I smile at her politely and step into the room, but my smile freezes on my lips.

  What the hell is going on?

  I look around the room, and a sinking feeling lands in the pit of my stomach. My eyes lock with Jax, and he’s looking at me like he’s grief-stricken. I shift my gaze and can’t tear my eyes away from his arm. Holding onto him and looking smug as anything is Olivia. In front of me, she gives him a little squeeze and curls her lip at me.

  I pull in a deep breath, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut. Turning around to look at Gaby, she slinks back into the corner of the room.

  Clearly I’m on my own.

  Holding my head high, I face Mrs. Prescott, who’s standing behind her husband, seated at his desk. I wait for them to speak first.

  “Ava, have you enjoyed working here?”

  My heart’s pounding and my mouth is dry. I will myself to stay in control. Jax’s eyes are burning into mine, but with physical pain searing through my chest, I refuse to look in his direction and clear my throat.

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Prescott. It’s been great so far.”

  Mrs. Prescott steps around him and stands in front of the desk, her arms crossed.

  “Well, in that case, I’m sorry to say that you’ve a poor way of repaying us back for our kindness.”

  I suck in another deep breath. What is she talking about?

  “Effective immediately, you are to leave the premises.”

  I blink furiously, spinning around to look at Gaby, who merely shakes her head.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what’s going on. Am I being fired?”

  Veronica Prescott lets out a brutal laugh. My eyes involuntarily fill with tears and I blink them away.

  “Of course you are, dear. We will not have common thieves in our house.”

  My jaw drops open. I glance at Jax and our eyes lock before I quickly avert my gaze, but not before I see a flash of pain reflecting in his eyes.

  “But I haven’t stolen anything, Mrs. Prescott.” A few tears run down my face and I roughly brush them away.

  Michael Prescott clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Ava, but Mrs. Prescott has lost a very valuable diamond necklace. We know you’re in charge of the bedrooms. We asked Catherine to check your room earlier and she found the necklace among your belongings.”

  I’m speechless. Catherine is one of the other maids - how could she do this to me? I’ve never had trouble with her.

  “Let’s not make a scene, dear. Thankfully, my necklace has been returned, but the trust is gone. Your things have been packed - you’ll find your suitcase by the front door.”

  I look at the floor, my eyes focusing on the intricate patterned rug.

  Realization dawns upon me. Mrs. Prescott never liked me anyway. With the incident regarding Christian and then finding out about Jax and me, she was hell-bent on getting rid of me.

  I stick my chin in the air. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave quietly and without a scene.” I surprise myself with how clear and firm my voice is. I grind out my last sentence. “But I am not a thief. I did not steal your necklace.”

  I nod at them, ignoring Jax, and spin on my heel.

  On second thought, I stop and turn back around.

  “Mr. Prescott, you may be interested to know the kind of woman your wife is. A few weeks ago, I walked into one of the spare bedrooms and she was screwing Christian. The same man who also tried to rape me.”

  I plaster a smile on for them, watching the expressions left behind on their faces with some satisfaction.

  Mrs. Prescott turns bright red, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  “What the hell is going on, Veronica?”

  “Mother, is this true?”

  I don’t bother to stick around to hear their raised voices. As they said, my suitcase is packed and waiting by the front door.

  Gaby hurriedly follows behind me.

  “Ava, I’m so sorry.”

  I stop, my eyes flashing. “You know it’s not true, Gaby, and yet you didn’t even stick up for me.”

  She openly begins to sob, clutching her chest, and I immediately feel bad for shouting at her.

  “I’m sorry, Ava…she threatened my job if I didn’t go along with this.” She cries harder into her hands. “I have nothing else left. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

  Veronica was such a vicious woman.

  I walk over and embrace Gaby, my anger at her dissipating.

  “It’s fine. I understand your reasons.” Patting her lightly on her back, I simultaneously pull out my cell phone from my pocket.

  “Please, can you do me a favor?”

  She looks at my hand, her eyes swollen and red. “Of course.”

  “Return this to Jax.” I place the cell in the palm of her hand and walk to where my suitcase is.

  “Ava, wait.” She rushes to me, digging inside her apron. Opening my hand, she places a stack of bills inside and wraps my fingers around it.

  More tears fill my eyes. “Aunt Gaby, I can’t accept this - I have some savings, I’ll be fine...”

  “No, child. Take it, please.” She brushes the hair out of my eyes, tears running down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more for you.”

  I reach out and hug her once again. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t worry about me.”

  “Keep in touch, mija. Let the dust settle around here and then we can plan some visits. And check the local papers - I’m sure you’ll find a cleaning job soon enough.”

  I squeeze her hand. There’s no way I’ll ever step foot in his house again.

  “I’ll be in touch in a few days. Let me figure out what I’m going to do and I’ll let you know.” I smile at her. “I’ve made it to America…it’s time to stand on my own two feet now.”

  Stepping back. I raise the handle on my suitcase and ignore the shouting voices from the study.

  It was time to get out of here before any of them emerged. Especially Jax.

  Opening the door, I step out into the warm sunshine and slip on my sunglasses.

  Still reeling from the shock of what just happened, the adrenaline courses through my veins while another part of me kicks into fight mode.

  And survival.

  As I walk out the electric gate, I flatten my lips. My late mother’s voice echoes in my ear over and over again:

  “Promise me you’ll always guard your heart…never give it away like I did…”

  I should have listened.

  There and then, I make a firm promise to myself, words that would guide me through life from now on:

  I’d never, ever fall for the smooth words of a man again.

  I’d never, ever give my heart away again.

  Steel walls would protect my heart from this error of judgment.

  No one would ever make me feel this unworthy again.

  Two days later, sitting in a cheap hotel room, I make a decision.

  Forgive me, mamá.

  Dressed in my smartest outfit, which comprises of the plain black dress I wore to my mother’s funeral and some basic pumps, I stand in front of the mirror. Assessing the person before me, nothing but fire and determination reflects back from my eyes.

  I have changed.

  Picking up my bag, I carefully place the photos inside and snap it shut.

  It’s time to introduce myself to my father.

  Chapter 16

  Ava

  Standing outside the building of Carter McKenzie Communications, I take in the morning flow of people traffic. Smartly dressed men and women chat on their phones, balancing their coffees, bagels, and exchange laughter between them as they make their way into the building. A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth and the scene fills me with hope – everyone seems so happy.

  This is the life I want more than anything.

  I inhale deeply, straighten my back, a
nd then proceed to enter the revolving doors into the air-conditioned foyer. After I introduce myself at the front reception desk, the woman instructs me to take the elevator to the executive floor, where I’d find a secondary reception area.

  Thanking her, I move to the side and enter the barriers. The elevator is located on the right and I squeeze myself into the car when it arrives. Finally, after the many stops at the different floors, I reach the top and step out onto the floor. It’s so high up, I bet you’d have a perfect view of the ocean depending on where your office was located.

  I stop for a moment and take a couple of breaths. My chest is pounding and my hands are clammy, so I rub them over my thighs. I don’t know what to expect and now that I’m here, the nerves take over and I almost want to step back into the elevator and run to the safety of my hotel room.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?”

  The voice startles me and I see an immaculately dressed woman, probably in her mid-twenties, looking at me with a puzzled expression.

  I cringe internally. It’s obvious I must look like a deer in headlights.

  Fixing a smile on my face, I nod. “Sure, can you point me in the direction of the reception desk, please?”

  “Of course, just straight ahead on your left.”

  I look straight ahead and catch the silver plaque. The sign is clearly marked on the wall and I want to slap my forehead. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” She moves past me and walks though a set of double doors to my right.

  Willing my feet to move, I head the right way and come to a stop in front of a huge desk, where a receptionist is tapping away on a keyboard.

  “Good morning, I’m here to see Carter James.”

  She moves her headset out of the way. “Sure, I’ll buzz through to his secretary. May I take your name?”

  “Ava Cortes.”

  She picks up her phone and offers me a smile. “Please take a seat in the waiting area, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  “Thank you.” I grip my clutch and walk over to the waiting area. Suddenly, even with the air-conditioning, I’m feeling incredibly warm. The thought of coming face to face with my father is completely surreal. I’ve studied his face over the years, but never once in my life ever believed I would finally meet him.

  My eyes flick over the neatly presented company brochures on the coffee table and I select one, absently scrolling through it to take my mind off the impending meeting.

  An hour passes. Each time someone walks in my direction, I glance up expectantly, only for him or her to continue with their business.

  Then another hour.

  I glance at my watch and stand, heading back to the receptionist.

  “Excuse me, I’m still waiting to see Mr. James. Will it be very much longer?”

  She chews on her lip and taps on her keyboard. “I’ve just messaged his secretary to tell her you’re still waiting to be seen.” She smiles. “I’m sorry. He’s a very busy man.”

  “Of course…I’ll wait for a little while longer.”

  Sighing, I retake my seat and fill up on water. I didn’t eat this morning due to my nausea, but my tummy releases a little grumble. I hope he wouldn’t be keeping me waiting for too much longer.

  Two more hours pass.

  The receptionist is running out of excuses and instead, her eyes fill with pity at my sorry ass. I’m starving, but I refuse to leave in case I miss him.

  I feel like a joke sitting here and eventually, admitting defeat, I gather my stuff.

  “I guess he’s too busy today?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Cortes. Mr. James very rarely takes unsolicited meetings. Perhaps you can tell me what it’s regarding and I’ll get a message to his secretary?” She raises an eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

  Instead, I shake my head. “It’s personal.” Slinging my bag on my shoulder, I force a smile. “Thanks anyway.”

  Stepping into the elevator, my heart is heavy and all I want to do is cry. The day started off so well, full of optimism and hoping for a positive end, yet here I am, no better off than yesterday.

  I make my way back across town and grab a light bite to eat while considering my day. So many faces, coming and going, living the life I craved so bad.

  Too disappointed to focus on anything else, I go back to my hotel.

  Tomorrow is another day.

  “Oh, good morning again, Miss Cortes.” The receptionist from yesterday looks up with a smile, but I can see the questions forming in her head. “Did you make an appointment?”

  “No, I didn’t. But please tell Mr. James’s secretary that it is of utter importance that he sees me this morning.”

  “Look, Miss Cortes, I’m happy to pass it on, but like I said yesterday-”

  I hold up my hand. “He’ll want to see me. Please pass on that it concerns Sophia Cortes. He’ll understand.” I smile but don’t wait for her to respond. Making my way over to the now-familiar waiting area, I sit with my legs crossed while my foot begins its own tapping rhythm.

  Waking up this morning, I decided to draw a line through yesterday. Clearly I wasn’t forceful enough. Today, come what may, I’m determined to see him and whether or not he believes me, I want the opportunity to have a conversation with my biological father.

  Thirty minutes later, the receptionist walks across to me.

  “Miss Cortes, Mr. James will see you now.”

  I inhale deeply and my chest begins to thump. “Thank you.”

  I’m directed to his office a few yards down the corridor, where his secretary greets me. She’s polite and cordial and we exchange pleasantries. Then she points to a door behind her and tells me to go on in.

  I nod and silently count to three. Holding my head high, I knock before entering. It feels like an entire swarm of butterflies have taken flight in my stomach.

  Pushing open the door, I’m struck by how big his office is. The first things I see are the floor-length windows that back the mahogany desk. In the distance, I can see the glistening of the ocean. I want to feast on everything in my peripheral vision, but my eyes are fixed on the man sitting at his desk and furiously thumbing away on his phone.

  I’m not sure whether to interrupt or just stand still and quiet until he’s free. I opt for the latter and take a moment to study him. He was in his late forties, but it’s easy to see that he looks after himself with his muscular physique. His blond hair is only very slightly receding at the front, but it doesn’t take away from the rest of his full head of hair.

  Somehow, it feels like an eternity before he tosses his phone on the desk.

  And then he looks at me.

  Our eyes clash and I can visibly see the color drain from his face. Blinking rapidly, his hand flies to his chest.

  “Ava Cortes?”

  I step forward into the room and swallow hard. “Yes. Hello, Mr. James.” I’m relieved my voice sounds relatively normal even though under the surface, I’m struggling with emotion.

  He gestures to the chair in front of him, not once taking his eyes off me. My face warms from the intensity of his stare but I do as I’m told.

  “How can I help you?”

  I take a deep breath and meet his eyes. No point in small talk. “Sofia Cortes, who I believe you once dated, was my mother.”

  I wait for him to say something.

  He’s silent, so I continue.

  “She unfortunately passed away recently…but it’s come to light that you’re my biological father.” I rush the last few words out of my mouth and glance at my lap. The atmosphere is so tense, you could cut it with a knife.

  He’s quiet, and I wish he’d say something. Anything.

  “And if this is true, what proof do you have?”

  I wish I had Jax’s evidence. Instead, I lift my gaze to meet his. He places his elbows on the desk and steeples his fingers against his forehead. He’s frowning so hard, I wonder if the wrinkle may permanently stick.

  “I don’t have any apart from some pho
tos…but you’re welcome to get a DNA test.”

  His mouth turns down and he abruptly sits back in his leather chair and crosses his arms. His face hardens. “What do you want? Money? Is that it? You want to sell your story to the press saying you’re my love child?” He pushes his chair back and stands, towering over me. “You here to blackmail me?”

  I’m so stunned, I can’t speak.

  My eyes flash and I also get to my feet, pulling open my bag.

  “I don’t want anything from you. I’ve managed perfectly fine for the past nineteen years.” I slam the photos down on the desk, and it just so happens that the first one is of him and my mother together. His eyes bulge at the photo. “I just thought I’d give you the courtesy of knowing that you have a daughter.” I shake my head at him and repeat myself. “I want nothing from you.”

  Then I head for the door and slam it shut behind me before he can say anything further.

  His secretary glances up, but I rush past her without a word. My hands are trembling by the time I repeatedly hit the elevator button and my vision starts to blur.

  Unfortunately, I remember once I’m halfway down the street that I’d scribbled my new cell number and hotel on a piece of paper with the stack of photos.

  Too late to retrieve them.

  Stomping down the sidewalk, I blink away my tears and give myself a pep talk to harden up.

  I tried.

  At least I’d never live with regret.

  I don’t hear anything for a week. I tell myself it’s to be expected, judging from the reception I received, but a small part of me was holding out for something.

  Even just the acknowledgment of him being with my mother.

  I’m hurt, but I force myself to move on. Thankfully, I secured a job as a waitress in a little Italian restaurant not far from the hotel and throw myself into the training.

  About 10 days later, I receive a call from his secretary.

  “Miss Cortes, Mr. James would like to see you in his office tomorrow at noon. Can I confirm your attendance?”

  I suck in a breath, my decision made. “No, thank you. I won’t be able to attend.”

  “I’m sorry? Is that not a good time? If so, I can see when I can next squeeze-”